


In the Mood

by sleepingspero9



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, M/M, Office Sex, Openly Bisexual Dean, also kinda pwp, he will learn ok, he's Dean Smith ish, office worker Dean ok, warning: dean is a little acephobic and offensive
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-27 03:07:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5031394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepingspero9/pseuds/sleepingspero9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean thinks he's lucked out, scoring with a hot coworker who doesn't seem to want strings either.  But Cas turns out to be kind of a weirdo... and he definitely comes with strings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The first time it happened, Dean didn't think much of it.  Hell, Dean never even imagined Cas was interested in guys to begin with, so how was he supposed to know what was normal with him?

It was a dumb company function, and maybe Dean's abstinence from carbs was unwise when he knew he'd have to drink at this thing.  But he was trying to lean up here, and throwing a party for big wig clients meant that he wasn't going to hit the gym at all.  So really he was in a bind either way.

But then he'd gotten up to go to the bathroom and the whole room hadn't stop spinning once.  Even standing was hard, and finishing his business at the urinal without vomiting was a triumph.  No, Dean couldn't let Zach - or, God forbid, _Michael was out there, too_ \- none of the higher ups could see him like this.  Not after the Christmas debacle last year.

He knew there was the mailroom at the other end of the hall, and slunk that way instead of heading back towards the noisy foyer full of guests.  There was already someone inside the room, sprawled out inches from him.

"Busted," the other man laughed from his seat on the empty countertop.

" _Cas_?" Dean startled himself, looking around to make sure he hadn't drawn attention, and dropped his voice to a whisper.  "What are you doing in here?"

"Same as you," Cas replied had hopped down from the counter, gesturing quickly at Dean to come in.  "Come on, are we hiding or snitching here?"

Dean was rooted to the spot, so Cas had to pull him forward by grabbing his elbow.  Cas peeked into the hallway before closing the door and rounding on him again.  He smelled strongly of whiskey.

"So who are you avoiding?"

"Uh.  Everyone, I guess."

"Hmm," Cas nodded.  "I'm trying to give that Balthazar the slip.  He's good money, but damn is he ever driving me up the wall."

Cas pulled up a whole bottle of scotch and drank right out of it.  Then he offered it to Dean.  "Drink?"

Dean shook his head.  "That's exactly why I'm hiding.  I already got an official warning and here I am barely staggering straight."

Cas shrugged and took another swig, though he didn't move from Dean's space.  In fact, he leaned against the counter, crowding Dean between himself and the wall.  Dean did not mind in the slightest.  In fact, if anything it made his heart pound a little.

He didn't have a crush or anything, not like he had any chance with someone straight edge like Cas, but the guy was undeniably hot.  And he was very much unlike his usual stuffy self right now, with his tie pulled loose and too many buttons undone.  Never mind that their situation was like something straight out of a porno, hiding out in the mailroom.

"What was your offence?"

"Huh?" Dean realized Cas had been talking.

"Why did you get a warning?"

"Oh.  Yeah, I had way too much to drink at the Christmas party last year and -"

"The karaoke monster!"  Cas burst out laughing.  "Wow, I forgot that _was_ you!  They were talking about that for months!"

Dean's cheeks were hot.  "Even in your division, huh?"

" _Everywhere_ ," Cas sniggered.  "Even in here, I bet," he gestured at the mail cabinets.

Dean sighed and leaned against the counter, too, his elbow pressing right against Cas'.  "Yeah, well, if anyone in management gets wind of this they'll hang me out to dry.  I just need to sober up before I get back out there."

"Hmm," Cas said again, still grinning though he wasn't laughing anymore.  "And I'm waiting for Rachel to let me know when Balthazar leaves.  Looks like we'll be here a while."

"Yeah," Dean smiled shyly, "well you're not the worst company I could have."

Then Cas completely threw him for a loop, suddenly asking, "Could we make out, Dean?"

"Wh- ?" Dean's eyes went wide and he plastered himself against the wall to move away from Cas - there wasn't much room, though.  "Are you - " _joking? Gay?_   The words didn't make it out of his mouth, because Cas immediately covered it with his own.

Dean was shocked, had to focus in order to register a few things.  There was the sound of Cas setting that bottle down, as if from far away, and one hand went to the back of Dean's neck to pull his closer.  Cas didn't look it yet, but he had stubble on his chin already, scratching Dean's as he blew strong whiskey breath out his nose over Dean's face.

But Dean had never been one to react slowly to a hookup, and his body didn't fail him here.  When his brain had finally caught up with it all, he found himself kissing right back, already with a handful of Cas' ass.  _Nice,_ Dean thought excitedly.  This was better than his wildest dreams.  Not that he frequently dreamed of co-workers.  But this was _Cas Novak_ , the hottest man - no, hottest person on Dean's floor.  He'd definitely wormed his way into a couple wet dreams before.

Cas responded in kind, both hands slipping down to Dean's backside, gripping just under his ass.  His grip was relentless, pushing at Dean's thighs until he took the hint and leaned back so Cas could lift him up against the counter.  He didn't quite set him up on it, though, so it dug into Dean's back as Cas pressed himself between Dean's legs, effectively balancing Dean on his hips.  And he was hard, too, pressed up against Dean like this, so Dean had no reason to think Cas was an abstinence weirdo just yet.  Clearly, all his parts worked.

The whole time, they were mashing their mouths together, wet and hungry.  Cas alternated between sucking Dean's tongue right out of his mouth and actually grazing it with his teeth, biting Dean's lips, his hand coming back up behind Dean to hold him in place so he couldn't lean away from the assault.  Not that he wanted to.

Dean tried to give as good as he got, wrapping his legs around Cas's waist, and was immediately rewarded.  The hand that had been holding him up now worked between them and Cas cupped him through his trousers.  Gave a solid squeeze.  Dean groaned loud, almost lost his delicate balance, and had put an arm around Cas' shoulders to steady himself.  The broken kiss was not resumed.  Cas went for his neck instead.

It should have been a red flag.  Dean hated getting marked up, especially in a visible place.  He couldn't bring himself to care, as Cas was enthusiastically rubbing his palm over the front of his pants, as if suctioned over Dean's dick.

"Fuck Cas, that feels amazing," Dean moaned, jerking his hips into the motions.

It was perfect, coupled with the sound of Cas' short breaths in his ear.  Dean could hear the air catch in his throat as if he was trying not to _whine_ , and damn if Dean wasn't going to just let him have whatever he wanted.

 _Shit, do I even have a condom on me?_   He thought suddenly - naively.  He didn't know that wasn't how it would ever go between them.

No, Cas laid him right back just as Dean was starting to really get sore on the edge of that counter.  He leaned over him, back to claiming his mouth with rough kisses, and his hand stayed between Dean's legs, working diligently.  God, Dean could come like this if Cas kept that up.  Unfortunately, Cas had no plans to let him come any other way.

It was frantic, maybe twenty minutes in total.  Before Dean knew it, he was about to blow a load in his pants, despite his attempts to get Cas to stop.

"Wait, Cas, I'm really gunna -" he managed, with Cas sucking hard on his lower lip - "oh, God, no," he realized, Cas wanted him to come like this.

Dean pushed weak against Cas' shoulder, unable to speak as his mouth was full of Cas' tongue again.  Then he was too far gone, could only hold tight to Cas who was pushing him down hard, almost crushing.  His hand clamped against Dean's cock, relentless as he worked Dean to orgasm and through it.

Dean made some embarrassing noise against Cas' mouth.  He came hard, soaking his boxers so well he was sure Cas' hand was wet too.  He didn't release Dean right away, but his rubbing was more gentle now, slower.  Cas remained cupping his spent junk even after Dean collapsed, boneless, against the countertop.

They hadn't even gotten a single button open.  It wasn't a strange assumption to think that Cas had gotten what he needed from the exchange, too.

He climbed off of Dean a moment later, letting a distinct cold air settle on Dean in his absence.  Especially on the wet fabric over his crotch.  Dean tried to sit up, had to sag against the wall as he watched Cas fix his tie and run a hand through his hair.  When they met eyes again, Cas winked.

"I'm going to go grab us some breadsticks.  Just hang tight, okay?"

Somewhere in Dean's mind was a protest about carbs, and maybe a little bit of _What the fuck just happened?_   But none of that made it out his mouth, and Cas had already stepped outside the mailroom and closed the door behind him.

Dean sat there staring blankly at the bottle of scotch a ways over from him.  He was trying to figure out if he'd just been ditched, but barely a minute later the door opened again.  Cas slipped through it.  Closed it quietly.

"You okay?" he asked, looking genuinely concerned.

"What the hell?" Dean whispered, confused.  He couldn't keep up with Cas.  His head hurt, even.

"Breadsticks," Cas said again, holding up a basket of them.  He brandished a plastic bottle as well, adding, "and water."

"Why?"

Cas was placing them beside Dean.  "You said you need to sober up," he replied, pulling himself up onto the counter, too.  He went for the booze again, wincing as he took a gulp that was maybe too big.

Dean just stared.  He felt dumb, but he asked anyway, "Cas, did we just hook up?"

Cas glanced at him, frowning.  "Seriously, Dean," he said, leaning forward, then they were kissing again.

And yeah, okay, that was nice.  Dean relaxed right into it when Cas placed a hand on his cheek.  He broke away, hovering close so their noses almost touched.  "You should really eat something."

"Okay," Dean replied numbly.

Cas shifted back and Dean obligingly went for a breadstick.  He really should have given up on the calorie counting and spared himself this whole mess - though getting drunk had meant he was alone with Cas, so it was okay after all.

"So, I didn't know you were gay," Cas piped up, conversational.

"I'm not - I'm bi," Dean replied tiredly, reaching for the water bottle now.  Cas had known exactly what he needed.  "It's no secret, I thought you'd know."

"Huh.  Well, I didn't," Cas shrugged.  "I guess we never mixed much."

It wasn't true.  They worked on the same floor, offices down the hall from each other; even though they were heads of different teams, they still did the same job.  "We go on management lunches all the time," Dean said.

"I think I could count on one hand the number of times we've even sat next to each other," Cas chuckled.  "Even then, it was always all business."

Dean nodded in agreement.  "That's right.  All work and no play."

Cas smirked at that, and raised his bottle high, "Here's to more play from now on?"

Dean grinned back, holding up his water.  "Hell yes," he agreed, and they both drank.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Dean didn't have high expectations; he really wasn't the romantic type.  He did imagine that after spending a whole evening sharing breadsticks and personal stories, they might actually hang out outside of work.  If not for honest dates, then at least for convenience.  Cas seemed to have different ideas entirely.

He didn't reply to Dean's text the next day, a Saturday.  That was okay, Dean needed to make up for the whole night anyway, and spent most of the day at the gym.  He might have done some embarrassing grocery shopping for two instead of one, imagining that Cas would respond any minute and Dean could invite him over for dinner.  Yeah, that didn't happen.

He debated over sending another message on Sunday, and ended up losing against his better judgement.  It was a simple ' _what shitty weather_ ', but still when no reply came from Cas, it made Dean feel way too clingy.

By the time Monday morning rolled around, he had begun to wonder whether Cas really had been too drunk and regretted the whole thing.  It seemed inconceivable that they had spent _hours_ alone in that mailroom on Friday night.  Propped against the wall, shoulder to shoulder.  Had he imagined that Cas kept his hand over Dean's while they talked?  They had definitely kissed good night before he put Dean in a taxi and sent him home... he had seemed such a gentleman.

But Cas was far from a gentleman.  They met in the elevator, not an uncommon occurrence; they were both in the regular habit of arriving fifteen minutes early.  Dean took the underground train, and went through the station mall for a coffee before finding the elevator to their company's tower, so he was the only one on board when the doors opened at the lobby.  Luck would have it, Cas was on the other side of them, stiff as ever with his shirt buttons done right up to his throat and his tie knotted perfectly.  Not at all like Friday in the mailroom.

"Hello, Dean," he said, unreadable.

"Cas," Dean breathed, suddenly self conscious over his stupid texting.

Cas stepped in without haste, and the doors closed behind him.  It was just the two of them.  Cas didn't say anything more, but surged forward and crashed their mouths together.

Dean tried to say something, he didn't know what because Cas wedged his knee between Dean's legs and made him forget every train of thought he had.  He lost himself in kissing Cas, embarrassing text messages neither here nor there anymore.  Then Cas' hip pushed against Dean's groin and - holy shit, they were dry humping in the goddamn elevator.

Cas slammed him roughly against the wall, which broke the kiss and made Dean open his eyes.  He found Cas eyeing his mouth, pulling his own lip between his teeth hungrily.

"Mm, nice," he murmured with a smirk.  Then he stepped back, pulling the collar of his overcoat straight again.  He smoothed his tie - Dean must have skewed it, he didn't know when.  He gazed up at the display above the elevator doors.

"We're next."

Dean glanced up too, dazed.  "Oh, shit," he realized, scrambling to fix his own appearance before they reached their floor.  He ran a hand through his hair, finding the back sticking up in every direction.  But that wasn't his biggest problem: Dean had a fucking boner to deal with now.

"Meet me in the bathroom?" Cas asked, a barely veiled offer to help Dean with his problem.

"Give me five minutes," Dean answered, his voice tight.

The elevator made a soft _ding_ sound.  Dean had to slip his jacket off and now he draped it over his forearm just in time as the doors opened.

"You have two minutes," Cas said, low, before stepping out first.

Dean cursed quietly, but he dashed towards his office, giving Rachel an abrupt response as he passed her at reception.

"Oh, wait Dean, I have mail for you -"

Dean almost said he would come back for it later, but found himself turning around anyway.  "Thank you, Rachel," he said stiffly as she dug around before handing him the small stack of envelopes.

"You are welcome," she responded cheerfully.  "Did you have a nice weekend?"

Yup, Dean's boner was totally gone now.  He tried to mask his annoyance.  "Yeah - I just got a meeting first thing, so I have to run -"

"Oh, of course - I'm sorry -"

"No, no worries," Dean said quickly, adding something about catching up later.  He booked it straight down the hallway, glad that the bathroom was around a corner, so Rachel wouldn't notice as he charged in without bothering to drop his stuff in his office first.

"There you are," a voice to his right said.

Dean turned to find Cas leaning against a stall door.  He stepped backwards, holding eye contact as he moved.  "Hurry up," he growled, and Dean didn't need telling twice.

Okay, so it was unprofessional.  Dean normally wasn't like this.  _Just this once, then I'll tell him.  Not at work._   They could talk rules later, though.

Cas locked the stall door and quickly had pushed Dean up against it.  At first, he was tender, one hand holding him gently behind the ear as they kissed.  It was sweet, less teeth than in the elevator, and it more than made up for the silent weekend.  No stubble, Dean registered.  Cas probably shaved in the mornings before work.

Soon though, both of Cas' hands found his ass, sliding even lower and urging Dean to let Cas lift him up again.  Dean complied, bracing himself against the walls of the stall so Cas could shift him up onto his hips.  They didn't once lose focus on exploring each other's mouths while shifting positions, and it was a lot more comfortable to have a door against Dean's back than the edge of that counter in the mailroom.

Cas' dick was hard as an iron bar against him, and Dean did his best to grind down so they could both feel it.  It didn't work so well for him, but that was okay, because when he gave up on lining their dicks together and just moved his ass against Cas' erection, Cas made a delicious noise.  His mouth fell open in a silent "oh", and he dropped his forehead to Dean's shoulder.

"Ah, Dean," he mumbled, and something else incoherent.

It didn't last very long; probably a good thing, because Dean was really rocking against that door and it was honestly making a racket.  He was half scared that it might break under them, imagined toppling to the floor.  Cas saved them from that possibility by lowering Dean's legs so his feet could touch the ground again.  It ruined that nice angle where Dean could grind his ass on Cas' dick.  He tried to fix that by turning around, reaching behind him to pull Cas' hips forward.

"Dean," Cas grumbled again - he sounded _disapproving_.

"Shh," Dean snagged Cas' shirt this time, pulling his torso close.  "We gotta make this quick."

It worked.  Cas seemed content to lap at Dean's neck - "Ah - no hickeys, man" - and he wound his arms around him.  One hand fisted in Dean's shirt, pinning his back flush to Cas' chest.  The other went straight to Dean's dick, which was more than relieved for the attention; Cas cupped him through his slacks, sliding up and down tantalizingly.

" _Shit_ , yeah Cas," he moaned before biting his lip.  They really needed to stay quiet.

Oddly enough, that's how they stayed.  Dean tried to grind back against Cas best he could, but Cas obdurately held him in place.  He didn't really grind against Dean either, despite being hard as a rock against his ass.  It was enough for Dean, though, as Cas gripped him tight and steadily jerked him - even if it was through his pants.  And Cas seemed determined to make Dean soak his underwear again.

"Good boy," he hummed, nudging his nose behind Dean's ear, breathing hot against his neck.

"Cas - I don't wanna come in my pants," Dean managed, his voice throaty.  He wanted to do more for Cas, but worked up as he was, and with the vice grip Cad had on him, he just kind of gave in.  So they were doing it like this, then.  Cas could at least let him out of his goddamn slacks - his zipper grinding into his oversensitive dick was even getting a little sore.

It was weirdly hot for Dean, that he tried to undo his belt and literally couldn't get around Cas' hand.  He scrabbled weakly, mumbling "Cas," as he tried to pull that hand away just for a moment. Cas wasn't listening.

"Just relax," he whispered, and starting kissing Dean's neck again.

"Oh God, hold on -" Dean was too worked up.  He did his best to stave off coming too quickly.  He gripped Cas' wrist and pulled again - this time Cas relented - no, no he did not relent, he went for Dean's balls and curled his fingers up under them gingerly.  Dean groaned despite himself.

"Mm, you're so close Dean," Cas choked out, totally wrecked.

Fuck it, Dean figured.  If Cas wanted him to stain his pants, then Dean was goddamn staining his pants.  He didn't fight anymore, as Cas' other hand trailed from his chest down his stomach.  He kept a light touch on Dean's balls, pulling them gently forwards, and he resumed fondling Dean's aching cock with the other hand.  It was mind-numbing.  He was so past ready to come, Dean maybe lasted a minute before he choked and spilled himself against Cas' deft fingers, right into his fucking underwear again.

Cas hummed happily while Dean panted and pulsed against his hand, "Yeah, baby, good job."

And that was hot as hell, so what could Dean say in protest?

Cas was really sweet afterwards, helping him clean up.  Dean had a lot of come, it seemed.  Thankfully the front of Dean's pants wasn't visibly dirty, but his boxers were so wet he couldn't wear them.

"Mm," Cas grinned appreciatively as Dean pulled only his slacks back on, "you gunna go commando today?"

"The fuck else am I supposed to do?" Dean retorted, though there was little sting in his tone.  It was hard to stay annoyed with Cas when he gave such intense orgasms.

"What about you?  You must be a mess too."

Cas shook his head.  "I am just fine."

Dean paused from tucking in his shirt.  "Are you sure?  I didn't even help you out..."

"Dean," Cas said, forcefully.  He leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss on Dean's lips.  "You were great, okay?"

Dean didn't mean to, but it made him smile like a dork.  "So let's do this again, yeah?"

"Definitely.  But we really need to get to our desks now."  Cas indicated at his watch.

_Shit._   Only three minutes now before they had to be online.  Dean cussed repeatedly as he attempted to fix his clothes.  Cas, still completely put together himself, was trying to help him.

Dean waved him away.  "You know what, I got this.  It's better if you leave first anyway."

Cas nodded, agreeing quickly, and gave Dean an awkward pat on the shoulder.  "Okay, I'll see you later."

"Cas -" Dean stopped him just before the door.  "I will text you.  You better fucking answer me."

Cas' eyes went wide, but all he said was, "Right," before turning on his heel and speeding out of the bathroom.

Dean collected his things: mail, briefcase, jacket, he stuffed his gross boxers into the pocket - damn, they were lucky no one came in here - and gave himself one last glance over in the mirror.  He patted his hair into line.

"Eh," he shrugged, giving up.  Just this once, he would allow it.

Shit, Dean was making _exceptions_.  Cas had thoroughly gotten under his skin with just two fumbly handjobs.  Boy, was he fucked.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Cas was enjoying this way too much.  Dean didn't usually see a lot of him during the work day, but somehow they bumped into each other whenever Dean stepped out for a coffee or a smoke break.  And every time, Cas would give him this knowing once-over and cock an eyebrow at him.  It made Dean feel totally exposed without any underwear on, as if everyone could tell.

And apparently, when Dean stopped to allow for pleasantries with Rachel at the front, Cas was right around the corner listening in.

Dean had no idea.  He was just blathering on, "It was good, yeah, got in some decent time at the gym, what about you?"

Instead of answering about her own weekend, Rachel just asked him more.  "Did you go out at all?"

Dean shrugged.  "No, nowhere interesting."

"Well it looks like you had fun," she said, giggling now.

"What do you -"

She tapped her neck, nodding at him with a pointed look.  Dean's hand involuntarily slapped to the spot she indicated, feeling hot suddenly.

"What?" he asked, even though he knew.

"Yeah, she left a mark," Rachel grinned, not unkindly.

"He," Dean corrected automatically, even as his face flushed red.

She just rolled her eyes.  "Okay, 'he' left a mark."

"Rachel - " Dean stepped forward, trying not to look as panicked as he felt.  "Do you have a - a makeup thing for this?"

"Cover up?"

"Yes, that!"

So she helped him out.  But when Dean had finished thanking her and promising to bring her a latte, he rounded the corner and nearly walked right into Cas.  He was standing there with his arms folded and wearing the most smug expression.

" _Cas!_ "  Dean sputtered, only barely managing to keep his tone to a whisper.  "You did this, you son of a - I told you no hickeys!"

"That one was from Friday," Cas shrugged.

Dean shook a finger at him like he was reprimanding a child.  "No more!"

Cas shrugged again.  "I heard you already.  No more."  Then he glanced up and down Dean's body, smirking.

Dean suddenly had the feeling that not only was he standing around without any boxers on, he was actually half naked right there in the hallway.  He even had to check - and of course he was just fine, pants present and accounted for - goddamn Cas getting in his head!

"I have to get back to work," Dean grumbled, finally just moving past him.

But Cas didn't seem perturbed in the least.  At precisely noon, he proved both that he knew perfectly well how to text and that Dean did have the right phone number for him.  ' _Lunch?_ ' was all he typed.

 _This is more like it_ , Dean thought, filled with an unwarranted giddiness that he had to clear his throat to hide.  It was the most normal of all the advances Cas had made on him so far.  A good sign, surely.

It turned out, they both shared a love for cheeseburgers, so Dean took him to one of his favourite joints: Connor's Diner, a tiny place stuffed onto a second floor a couple blocks away.  Cas had never even heard of it.  So they strolled on over, discussing banal stuff like cell phones.

Cas explained that he rarely used his phone, that he only had one because it was issued by the company.  Which was why he didn't get Dean's messages in a timely fashion.  Dean decided he'd let that slide; just walking together like this had him in such a good mood.  They reached the diner, and they had only just sat down and opened their menus when Dean's bubble was burst.

Cas was not focusing on the list of sandwiches as he appeared to be doing.  It seemed he had slipped off a shoe under the table, and he was now reaching across their booth with one foot, to snake up the inside of Dean's thigh.

" _What the_ \- dude!"  Dean tried to keep his tone down, refrained from jumping in surprise.

Cas' foot just stayed its course, as he lifted a lazy gaze to Dean's face.  "What's wrong?" he asked, too innocently.  His foot found Dean's crotch.

Dean tried to push him away, but Cas had the advantage at his angle.  He arched his foot, rubbing against Dean's dick - which threatened to rise in interest.

"Cas, cut that out right now," Dean growled.

"Oh," he said slowly, pushing his foot up and down just the right way and feigning a look of confusion.  "You don't like this?"

And, okay, Cas knew exactly what he doing, he had Dean hard already.  _For fuck's sake,_   Dean groaned inwardly.

"Just -" he pushed at Cas' ankle again, not nearly strong enough, but fortunately Cas ceased the motion all the same.  "Can't we just have lunch?"

Cas seemed to clue in now that Dean was not amused, and retreated. "My apologies, Dean.  Yes, let's just have a nice lunch."

But now it was cold where his foot had been.  And Dean's hard on didn't seem to be going anywhere.  He tried not to think about it; for some reason, picturing old Ford pickups usually helped him come down from unwanted erections, so he kept those in the back of his mind as they chose and placed their orders.

For the most part, it worked.  He wasn't totally stiff anymore.  But man, was he still horny.  Cas' stupid little stunt had him worked up, restless now.

"I thought we came for burgers," Cas asked curiously as the waiter left them again.

Dean had ordered salad and steak.  "I'm not supposed to have carbs this week," he announced, leaning back and patting his abs for emphasis.

Cas frowned.  "But why?  Your physique is stellar, Dean."

He felt himself blushing.  "Well, that's only because I put a lot of energy into maintaining it."  He drank from his water to busy himself.

"Your beauty has no correlation to some BMI number," Cas insisted, too serious.

Dean just laughed nervously and drank more water.  "Hah, okay, Oprah."

Cas didn't say anything more, and Dean inexplicably thought again of Cas' foot, and increasingly the whole situation was just becoming embarrassing.  Dean shifted in his seat, trying to inconspicuously adjust the angle of his fly against his bare dick so it wouldn't scratch him as he swelled.  _No, no, think rusty old trucks, trucks that have squealing engines, shitty old Fords..._

Something occurred to Dean.  "We have a good fifteen minutes before our food gets here, yeah?" he asked Cas, glancing around self-consciously.

Cas shrugged.  "We should still have plenty of time to get back for one o'clock."

"No, I -" Dean couldn't say it.  It was awful, so unlike him, but he suspected it was right up Cas' alley.  "I have to take a piss.  You gotta piss, Cas?"

He got it.  Thankfully, he didn't act obvious, just nodded and said, "Yes, yes I do."

The men's bathroom was an actual, single bathroom, so they were discreet about going in together.  But they didn't waste time once they were in.  Cas bent him over the sink, whispering things into his ear.  Questions that weren't questions.

" _You like it this way, don't you, Dean?_ "

" _You like my cock against your ass, huh?_ "

" _You want something in your ass, is that it, Dean?_

Dean didn't know what he said in reply, if he said anything.  Cas was groping him in exactly the same way he had this morning, and it was agonizing.  "Let me -" Dean complained, and surprisingly Cas was understanding and cooperative this time.  He undid Dean's buckle himself, flicking open just the button before diving a hand inside.

Finally, a proper handjob.  Dean hissed at the touch, though, too sensitive after this morning's romp.

"Ah, you're cut," Cas murmured, pulling out again - he went for the handsoap, pushing Dean down so he could reach.

Dean took the opportunity to drop his pants entirely, they were just in the way of everything today.  Cas quickly resumed his attention on Dean's cock, this time slick with soap.  He seemed to just realize Dean was really half naked now.

"Woah," he leaned back, though he didn't let go.  His grip was tight, slick, absently slipping down off Dean's cockhead.  But it was just a moment, then he went right back to his task, leaning in and talking dirty again as he jerked Dean properly.  Obscene, wet noises filled the small bathroom.

"Look at you, face down, ass up," Cas pushed his rock hard dick right along Dean's exposed ass crack, but didn't bother opening his own pants.

Dean couldn't say anything, just grit his teeth to keep himself from moaning at Cas' amazing performance.  The makeshift lube let him jerk rough and fast without hurting in the slightest, it was perfect despite a lack of finesse - obviously Cas just wanted him to finish, and finish fast.

"I never would have thought you were so desperate to get fucked, you with all your alpha male posturing," Cas growled, rolling his hips just once so his clothed dick wedged between Dean's cheeks.

"Not now," Dean uttered, straining to contain his voice for it.  He hoped Cas understood what he meant.  "Not here."

"No, don't worry," Cas grumbled, and Dean thought he was just agreeing with him.  Every indication was that Cas intended to fuck him at some point.  It was just a logical conclusion.

Even though he really should have been able to last a while since they already had a go this morning, Dean was done soon.  The soap did the trick.  He hit the counter with two weak spurts of come and promptly sagged in Cas' arms.

He murmured hot in Dean's ear, "Good boy, what a good boy."

Even though it was a little awkward, with his head shoved right into a sink, as Cas' soapy palm continued to fondle him gently, Dean felt like he could just pass out like this.  But Cas' dick was steel against his ass; he still needed Dean.  So he pushed until Cas let go and moved back, so Dean could turn and drop to his knees.  Cas nearly bolted.

"No, Dean," he said, backed right up against the door.

"Cas -"

"We don't have time, we have to go," Cas talked over him, breaking the unspoken whisper rule.

Dean was about to insist, he was confident he could blow Cas in a matter of minutes, but his argument went right out of his head as Cas reached for the doorknob.

"Seriously, we're out of time," he said, this time quietly.

Panic pushed Dean to his feet, pulling his slacks back up as he went.  "Okay, okay," he surrendered, trying to cover himself before Cas did anything crazy like open that door on him.

Cas seemed to have calmed down though, and he stopped to help, cleaning up the counter while Dean wiped soap off his sack and righted his shirt.  They were almost normal again, and slipped out one after the other.  They even made it back to their table before their food.

But Dean was not over it.  Now he couldn't accept that this hot-and-cold bullshit was just a coincidence.  It was already a pattern, and Dean didn't tolerate chronic bullshit of any kind.  But he could never just be properly indignant; self-deprecation was too natural to him.  So Dean's inner monologue was equal parts _What the fuck is his problem_ , and _Of course he's disgusted by a needy mess like me_.

Either way, Dean was finally driven to lay it out clearly.  "Alright, I gotta have rules.  First of all, I don't do public.  _This_ is never happening again."

Cas only nodded.  He looked at Dean's hands instead of his eyes.

"And second - seriously, never at work.  Ever."

Cas nodded again.  He was saved from speaking as their food was just arriving.  The waiter didn't linger, no doubt picking up on the tension, and neither of them started to eat as she left.

"Now I gotta ask, what is this?" Dean gestured between them.

"What is what?" he replied noncommittally.  As if Cas hadn't been the goddamn one who asked him out today.

"Why are we here, Cas?"

He frowned.  "Dean, I thought it was clear.  I really like you."

"You do?" Dean went for incredulous.

"Yes, I -" Cas stumbled, "ever - ever since the coffee filters."

Coffee filters.  Dean suddenly recalled Zachariah sputtering grainy coffee in a boardroom meeting.  In front of clients.

The implications nearly made Dean's head spin.  "Was that your first day," he asked softly.

"You saved my ass," Cas said, his lack of real answer somehow still affirming Dean's suspicion.  He spoke to his plate instead of Dean.

And Dean momentarily forgot the look of horror on Cas' face when Dean had gotten on his knees in the bathroom.  All he could see now was the sheer gratitude Cas had displayed that day, more than two years ago, when Dean had taught him to use a freaking coffee machine.

"It was just coffee," Dean said, deflecting on impulse.  Things were suddenly too mawkish for him, and he picked up his knife and fork while scoffing.  "I still can't believe you didn't know how coffee filters worked."

"I understood their mechanics, I just didn't know they existed," Cas responded, nauseatingly solemn.

Dean was trying to cut the beef with his fork.  He scoffed again, switched hands, popped a chunk of steak in his mouth.  He gestured at Cas' untouched plate, chewing as he spoke.  "You gunna eat, or what?  Best burgers in downtown."

Thankfully, Cas followed his lead.  He ate, he expressed surprise at the quality of burger.  As they walked back to the office building, he nagged Dean about smoking.

"But you are so concerned with your health."

"I know, I know, I'm trying to cut back again."

"That's your fourth cigarette today."

He was wrong; it was Dean's fifth.  He'd had one on his balcony this morning.  But they both pretended it wasn't weird that Cas had been counting.  They just went and got Rachel her latte.

 


	4. Chapter 4

They made a quick recovery, turning lunch at Connor's into a regular thing.  It was great.  It didn't even feel like dating, just plain old hanging out - with no more hasty bathroom handjobs or inopportune cock teasing.  Just like that, they'd become _friends_ , which Dean had never expected out of the deal.

He'd always thought of Cas as too stiff and proper to be decent company, and their conversations in just the first two days quickly revealed how truly disparate their tastes were: Dean was into classic rock, whereas Cas just enjoyed classic.  The original classic.  Yeah, and he drove a gross new European car and paid for parking at work, and he had never watched a sports game in his life - he'd never seen the inside of a freaking bar - he was a military kid who had lived all over the world but had never set foot in another state (excepting airports, of course, which Dean didn't count as part of a place).  And the weirdest thing: he didn't even own a television.

But he'd read Vonnegut, so he wasn't all bad.  And somehow, Cas made being a complete weirdo this fascinating thing.  Okay, the sexual tension probably had something to do with that.  Dean was doing his best; he invited Cas over on Wednesday, but Cas' inability to keep his phone in his hand was a kibosh on seeing any action that night.

On Thursday Dean showed up for work in a rotten mood only to find his office door open and Cas sitting at his desk.

"I fucked up," he blurted before Dean could say anything.

"How the hell did you get in here?"

Cas shrugged. "Rachel doesn't guard her keys very well."

"You _stole_ \- ?  Cas, you can't just break into my office!"  Dean fumed.

"Okay, but to make up for that - and for not answering you last night - let me buy dinner tomorrow?" Cas rambled, wincing as he spoke as if in pain.

Dean was more than annoyed.  He didn't answer, just strode over and jerked his thumb to say _get the fuck out of my seat_.  Cas jumped up, so they were standing inches apart.  Dean hadn't noticed before, but Cas really was an inch or maybe even two shorter than him.  It felt good.

"What makes you think I'd even want to go to dinner?" he asked sullenly, dropping himself into his desk chair.

"Because I made reservations at the Aquarian."

 _Woah, he's serious_ , Dean reeled.  Michelin-star, and in a price range even Dean considered too high - although that wasn't the only reason he'd never been.  He narrowed his eyes at Cas.  "Isn't that an exclusive place?  You gotta be in some snob club."

Cas nodded.  "The Men of Letters, yes, my sister is one."

"She's a man of letters?" Dean sniggered, because he was out of his depth and he didn't know how to really respond to Cas.

"A woman of letters, I guess?"  Cas didn't laugh.  "So what is your answer?"

Dean studied him for a moment.  "Will you pull out my chair for me and get us a nice wine?"

He nodded again, listen raptly.  "Red or white?"

Dean burst out laughing and Cas stopped nodding.  It dawned on him: "You hate wine."

"I do, it's the worst."

Cas' expression didn't shift in the slightest, he just stared Dean down.  He was waiting for a straight answer.

"I accept, okay?  Just promise you won't break into my office again - I'll think you're trying to steal clients."  Not that it was a real threat; his files and his computer were both locked.  Cas' jurisdiction didn't even border his.

Cas nodded.  "I apologize.  It won't happen again."

"Alright."

They just kind of nodded at each other and Cas left abruptly.  But he was there when Dean went for a smoke later, waiting at the elevators.  A first.

"Like clockwork," he said with a smirk.

Dean couldn't even come up with a wisecrack, because it would mean acknowledging out loud that Cas was actively making note of Dean’s habits.  He just rolled his eyes and moved past Cas, who stepped into the elevator after him, eyes like a hawk on Dean’s body.

For a moment Dean thought Cas would push him against the wall again - okay, maybe he wished for it - but Cas didn't.  He simply followed Dean out to the courtyard, maintaining what seemed to be an exact distance from him the whole way.  He stared at his shoes while Dean smoked, answering questions about his Men of Letters sister.

She was in a military college.  Cas had gone to the same one.

"Really, _you_?"

Cas nodded nonchalantly.

"What, waking up to a trumpet and doing an obstacle course in the morning before class?" Dean scoffed, fronting that he had no idea what the purpose of a military college was - when Cas ended up a director at Sandover.

He looked confused.  "No," he said seriously.  Sometimes he really didn't know when Dean was joking.

It was kind of a drag, actually.  It made no sense that Dean was drawn to him still, leaning over and elbowing him just for the excuse to touch him.  A lack of humour was usually one area where Dean drew a line.  So why was Cas’ dumb expression making him laugh?  Why was Dean burning for him even more than ever?

 _I just really need to get laid._   The thought made Dean blush and he made a show of taking a long drag of his cigarette so he could cover his face.

Yeah, it was nearly a full week ago that Cas had first come on to him, and ever since then Dean had been fully expecting to bang him properly any day now.  Instead, they had been doing this awkward wrong-foot-first thing the whole freaking time. 

The realization weighed on him right up until their date.  It was about as intimidating as Dean expected it to be.  Not that cuisine was anywhere outside of his interest range - Dean _loved_ food, and he appreciated the nuanced flavours that a chef who gave a damn could cultivate.  But this wasn't just food.  It was cold marble and chandeliers, lighting so warm it singed, Prada models for waiters.

Dean felt severely out of place, though in the mirror he looked the part.  He’d worn his most expensive suit, and side by side with Cas they looked like a business pair; but it felt like a costume.  It felt weird, after Connor’s Diner the last five days in a row, to pick at scant course after scant course, stacked with a ridiculous number of extra dishes.  There was one sauce perched on top of a teetering tower of five plates!  And they just kept setting new forks down.  Never mind that Dean had to toss out the carb rule for this occasion, a setback he would surely regret at the gym tomorrow.

The one saving grace: it was a small table and they both had long legs.  Dean rested his knee against the inside of Cas’ knee, and they stayed like that the whole time.  And Dean might have been half hard and doing his best to imagine old Fords instead of Cas’ foot working its way between his legs.  Cas’ foot remained firmly in its shoe and on the floor anyway.

By the time they were done, Dean was about ready to pounce.  He couldn't say what any of their conversations had been on, only that Cas’ tongue came out to meet his fork every time before he took a bite of something, that the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed was mesmerizing, that his leg against Dean’s was searing hot.

He dragged Cas to his car - “Dean, I have my own car just around the corner” - and opened the back door for him instead of the passenger side without a word.  He was parked up a side street; it was one-way, with posh residential landscaping too, so trees and privacy hedges closed them in on either side of the narrow street.  Cas didn't bend for him, rooted to the spot and frowning.

“What are you doing?”

Dean opened his mouth to explain, but instead opted to swoop in on Cas for a hungry kiss.  It was more than words could do right now.

Cas wriggled against him, stuck between Dean and the car with nowhere to go.  Dean was so horny he had a hard time understanding that Cas was trying to resist, and already had both hands on Cas’ ass before a fist pounded on his shoulder and it clicked.  _Stop_.

“What,” Dean grunted, breaking for air and marvelling at the shine of saliva on Cas’ lips.

“You said never in public,” Cas responded, tense.

 _No, no, baby, relax_ , Dean wanted to say.  But they were talking, and he had to answer Cas’ words, so he settled for shifting his hands to Cas’ neck, cupping his jaw supportively as he tried to focus on speech.

“I take it back,” Dean muttered, tilting his chin forward in an offer.

Cas didn't take it.  “A rule is a rule, Dean.  It has to go both ways.”

Dean lowered his hands in exasperation.  “You're seriously saying you don't want it?”

“I’m saying -” he pretended his voice didn't hitch as Dean shifted his weight against Cas so his erection was between them now - “you were miserable all night and now you're going back on your own rule and I - I don't get you.”

That got Dean’s attention.  As if snapping out of a haze, he drew himself up, looking down at Cas in disbelief.  “You don't get me,” he repeated.  “You, the walking contradiction, don't get _me_.”

“What contradiction?”  Cas raised his voice, causing Dean to step back and break that sweet contact.  Something had gone so very wrong.  “I have been very clear about my feelings, Dean.  What about you?  Do you feel anything at all?”

Dean’s lip curled at the word.  “First you pin me down and have your way whenever you damn well please, then you ignore my texts, then you act like the very idea of me touching you is repulsive - and you have the balls to talk to me about feelings?  Yeah, I feel something, I feel pissed.”

Cas’ face fell.  He looked like he had in that bathroom at Connor’s - scared.  “I apologized for missing your message.”

That he had.  He’d paid too much for a stuffy night and apparently Dean was just ‘miserable’.  Okay, maybe Dean could have been more outwardly appreciative.  Maybe he was avoiding the indulgence of reciprocating Cas’ dumb confession, but only because Cas didn't get it.  Dean didn't want feelings and expensive dates.  Dean wanted…

“Cas, I want you so bad.  I have to fight to keep my hands off you.  I’m going out of my mind - _dates_?  Man, I don't do that stuff.  And I never mix business and pleasure - you just keep pushing my limits and I - I keep …”

Dean lost where he was going as embarrassment settled in.  Cas’ frown had melted completely by then, so it seemed he got the point anyway.

“You don't date?” he asked quietly.

Dean rubbed his face in exasperation.  “I mean, like - twice.  I've been in two actual relationships, with dinners and movies and - and hand holding and shit.  A long time ago.  I thought I was done.”

Cas grabbed his hand, his expression a question, and Dean felt like pulling out of it, maybe running away.  But he didn't.  He held his ground, letting a blush creep hot down his neck.  Cas pushed his fingers between Dean’s.

“Tonight, it was a date,” Cas murmured wonderingly.

“Well, yeah,” Dean huffed.  Cas was getting on his nerves now.

“And our lunches - dates?”

Dean shrugged.  “I thought so.”  They'd gone and christened the diner by hooking up in the bathroom, for fuck’s sake.

“Are you my boyfriend, Dean?”

That was it.  Dean had enough.  “Jesus Christ, Cas!”

He was pulling his hand free from Cas’ grip, stepping back, when all of a sudden he was spinning, falling, and he landed on his back on the bench seat of his car.  He only had a split second to get his bearings and recognize this much before Cas was on top of him, pulling the door shut behind them.

“What the - Cas -”

“Shh,” Cas hissed, covering his mouth in a rough kiss.

Then his hand found Dean’s cock in his suit pants again - he didn't last long.  Again.  No surprise, when Dean reached for Cas’ belt, he stopped him.

“Shh,” was all Cas said, when Dean opened his mouth to speak.

So Dean didn't ask.  Instead, he invited Cas over, “We could go the whole nine yards and do a movie, too.”

Cas agreed.  Dean thought he might have to explain that he didn't intend to watch a movie at all, but then Cas gave him a sly smirk and he figured they were on the same page.  Except that Dean had to drive all the way there with a slimy crotch, and Cas, well… Dean couldn't even guess anymore what his deal was.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...sorry for the year long absence. I'm doing this thing where I'm finishing these wips just for the sake of finishing them.

Dean was totally boned up again by the time they made it to his apartment building. Because Cas had insisted on driving himself, and on street parking, Dean had to go pull his Impala into its safe underground lot and then trudge through the lobby to let Cas in.  
  
God, it was so hard not to lay hands on him there at the front door, to lead him all the way back to the elevators - to stand there, a whole foot between them, riding all the way up to the top floor with neither of them bothering to hide the tent in their pants. It wasn't like Dean had never had a tongue down his throat in this very elevator, but he didn't want Cas to accuse him of mixed signals again. He would wait. His palms itched, his mouth watered, and his dick was heavy with need, but he would wait.  
  
Five minutes later, he was finally closing his own door behind them by way of shoving Cas against it. He slotted his leg between Cas’, thrilled at the feeling of a hard cock jutting into his hip, but driven even crazier by the feeling of Cas’ body against his own. He was dry humping the guy before he’d even connected their lips, when in all honesty he’d only gone in for a kiss in the first place.  
  
Cas made an awful sound, as if in pain, and Dean found couldn't kiss him after all. He just gripped Cas by the back of the neck, holding him close so their foreheads were pressed together. The other hand was at Cas’ hip, pulling, desperate to keep Cas’ erection between them, as proof that he was enjoying this.  
  
Dean pressed his nose against Cas’ cheek, reveling in Cas’ hot breath on his face. He just needed to know Cas was enjoying this too.  
  
Cas’ first response was to stop Dean from working a hand between them. Of course. Dean took this chance to dial himself back, sagging against Cas and trying to calm his wild heart rate.  
  
He chuckled. “No touching, huh?” Oh, Dean was going to obliterate that rule if it was the last thing he did.  
  
“I like to be in control,” Cas murmured. It was the closest he’d come to explaining so far.  
  
Dean managed to push himself up, stepping back from Cas and letting the cold air hit him instead. He quietly congratulated himself on amazing self control and gestured for Cas to follow him into the hall. He lost his shoes as they went.  
  
“So, we're not watching a movie,” he said, trying to keep his tone light, joking. It was a feat if he could just keep it even.  
  
Cas had some iron will, sounding casual as fuck as he replied, “You didn't lead me here under false pretences, did you?”  
  
Dean commanded himself to keep walking. He snagged Cas’ wrist, pulling to make him move faster. “Would that be bad?”  
  
“Very bad,” Cas obliged, a little too happily for Dean to think he could get any actual role play out of him tonight.  
  
It was still enough to make his knees week at the thought of it. Cas punishing him.  
  
They were at the door of Dean's bedroom now. He fought the urge to announce as much. God, he was usually smoother than this; Cas made him all weird. Desperate. Nervous.  
  
He shrugged out of his suit jacket, and Cas moved to stop him. “Can you keep it on?”  
  
Cas really liked to do this with clothes on. A part of Dean was swooning, ready to give into Cas’ every weirdo whim. The sensible part of him spoke, though. “Dry cleaning’s a bitch.”  
  
Cas looked almost nervous as Dean set it aside carefully, on the back of a chair.  
  
“Hey, I’ll keep the shirt and tie. Compromise, yeah?”  
  
He replied by slipping out of his own jacket and casting it on top of Dean’s. They had a bit of a staredown, Dean with his heart in his throat, and then they both went for their own belts as if in a frenzy. Two pair of dress pants went over the back of the chair, and finally Cas was kissing him.  
  
They fell down onto Dean’s neatly made king sized bed, and he felt Cas clawing at the buttons of his shirt.  
  
“Make up your mind already,” Dean started to say, a laugh on his lips, but Cas quieted him quickly.  
  
“Just… just a little bit -” he sounded so wrecked, Dean couldn't even joke. He just went to work on Cas’ shirt too, emboldened by a lack of the usual stalling.  
  
Holy fuck, why had it taken them so long to get here? Every day they weren't worshipping each other's bodies was an absolute shame.  
  
They stopped at undershirts. Dean had no complaints. Cas was on top of him, in some tight as fuck boxer briefs and a thin tank that showed off his beefy shoulders. Cas wasn’t toned but he was _built_ , in that thick way that came naturally. He didn't have to work at gaining the right kind of mass the way Dean did.  
  
“You are so hot,” Dean uttered, stupidly.  
  
Cas shook his head, putting one finger against Dean’s mouth. He shifted down over Dean’s legs, moving his attention to Dean’s boxers where there was still a huge wet stain from coming not even fifteen minutes ago, and Dean shut his mouth tight in compliance. Then Cas’ tongue was on him, and he hummed with the effort of keeping his lips sealed.  
  
Dean was in heaven. He'd started to worry that maybe Cas had a hands-only fixation, that he didn't actually do sex at all. Oral was definitely a good sign - even if it was the destination itself, holy shit, yeah Dean would take it. Cas worked wonders with his tongue.  
  
“Fuck, Cas -” Dean heard himself moan before he remembered himself and clenched his teeth again.  
  
He held on for all he was worth when Cas suddenly swallowed the head of his cock like it was the first drink of water he'd had in days, gulping around him over and over. Dean gave up the effort soon.  
  
“Yeah man, that’s it - God, I just wanna -” His hips lifted almost involuntarily, to absolutely no resistance. Dean’s cock lodged deeper in Cas’ throat for a horrifying split second, as Cas noisily choked on him before he pulled right out again.  
  
Dean immediately pushed to his elbows with wide eyes, ready to apologize, and found Cas spaced right out, smiling lazily as he met Dean’s eye. And, Dean almost didn't believe what he was seeing, Cas had one hand in his briefs, pumping away with jerky motions. The sight made Dean’s pulse wilder than the feel of a throat contracting around his dick. He was going to see Cas get off tonight.  
  
“You gunna fuck my face or what?” he asked, too gruff to match that blissed out expression.  
  
“Oh hell yes.” Dean wasted no time, reached out to push Cas’ head back down, gentle, shaking even. Cas went faster than his hand, taking Dean as far as he dared. Dean pushed deeper, holding his head in place now, all the while whispering, “Fuck, oh fuck.”  
  
He spooked a second time when Cas gagged, but before he could even glance down to check on him, Cas was grumbling, “More,” and Dean was not going to deny him.  
  
He took it well for a while, as Dean fucked his throat slow and shallow. A couple times, Cas spasmed like he might retch, but he only let Dean pause for a second, long enough to realize he was doing an embarrassing ‘oh’ face and close his mouth. Then Cas swallowed him right up again.  
  
The third time, Dean paused to let Cas catch his breath, but that hot mouth lifted, placing a little kiss to Dean’s leaking slit. Dean dropped his hands from Cas’ hair, to let him up, and he did. He crawled over Dean, wiping ineffectively at the obscene amount of saliva on his chin, and dropping to kiss him.  
  
He tasted like cock, his face smelled of come - Dean realized, because he hadn’t even cleaned up the last round. He lapped at the taste, at Cas’ amazing mouth.  
  
_What did I do to deserve this guy?_  
  
A hand gripped Dean’s aching cock, and started pumping him properly. With the amount of throat slick on him now, a delicious wet noise accompanied every jerk. It all stopped quite suddenly when Dean grabbed for Cas’ dick too.  
  
At least he didn't bolt. They stared hard at each other, and Dean was probably supposed to ask why, what had made Cas like this - but he was such a delicious sight with wet, swollen lips, that Dean couldn't bring himself to say the words. Instead, he asked, “Where?”  
  
When Cas didn't answer right away, he put both hands to Cas’ cheeks. “This is okay, right?”  
  
Cas put his own over Dean's fingers and kissed them. Nodded. So Dean trailed lower, slowly moving down Cas’ collar, over his chest. Cas’ hands remained on top of his until he reached the hem of that tank. They did not stop him, but did not follow Dean’s searching touch as he pushed under and up, feeling Cas’ hot, hard body back up to his chest again.  
  
They still stared at each other, Dean waiting for the signal to stop. It didn't come, all the way back down to the waistband of Cas’ briefs. Dean shifted there, moving to Cas’ hips. He was laying on one side, so Dean could only get his left hand around to grab at Cas’ full ass, but he did so under Cas’ briefs. His skin was soft and smooth. Dean was not disappointed, as Cas pulled their hips together and kissed him again.  
  
So, it seemed, he could touch anywhere else. Dean could deal with that, for now. But then Cas withdrew, his breath laboured and his collar flushed, and he moved Dean’s hand right onto his junk. His palm was cupped against a stiff shaft and his fingers curled around his package underneath, just one layer of cotton between them. It did nothing to muffle the heat of Cas’ swollen cock.  
  
His hand pulled away from Dean's, and he shut his eyes tight as if in focus. Was he giving him free reign? Dean was so grateful he had to fight the words ‘thank you’ from leaving his mouth. He shifted his hand in a slow up-and-down, searching Cas’ face for any signal to stop.  
  
The signal did not come from Cas’ face. Under Dean’s hand, his cock was already noticeably softening.  
  
“What?” Dean breathed, stupidly. _He was solid as fuck a second ago._  
  
Cas’ eyes opened again, looking like an apology.  
  
_So he has a hard time keeping it up -_ Dean couldn't even be annoyed when Cas looked like this. Like he'd failed Dean so miserably. When he had not failed Dean once.  
  
“Hey, no, you're fine, it's -” Dean didn't want want make it an ‘it’, though, he didn't want Cas to think about it a second longer. There was no room for thinking here, where he finally had Cas in his bed and a whole night to take this slow. He pulled Cas towards him again, and he was still half hard when their hips met.  
  
There was something that had Cas all hot and bothered a moment ago. They could stick to that, easily. “Just tell me what you're into.”  
  
“You,” Cas groaned, biting at Dean’s lip. “The noises you make, all I want to do is make you come over and over again.”  
  
Dean believed him. “Do you wanna… just make it all about me?”  
  
“Can we?” Cas’ teeth found his neck.  
  
Dean had to gulp before he could speak. “Hell yeah,” he breathed  
  
He knew Cas was making a mark on his skin, and he couldn't bring himself to tell him to stop. Cas was a stickler for rules, and he knew very well he was breaking one right now. Instead of bothering Dean, it made him even hornier.  
  
When Cas went back down on him, Dean was so glad he'd already blown a load in the car earlier. He wanted to last and last tonight.  
  



	6. Chapter 6

Dean woke up with Castiel freaking Novak in his bed. He was a real sight, his hair unruly, a shadow on his chin, he didn`t even try to cuddle Dean and the only part of them that touched was their forearms. Why had he let so the years to go by with someone so perfect right there in front of him the whole time?

Cas was awake, and watching him too.  
  
Dean covered his mouth. "Morning."  
  
He reached up and mussed Dean's hair. "Sleep well?"  
  
"Like the dead."  
  
Cas smirked, pride etched into the expression. Dean came a total of three times last night: they'd moved things to the shower and back, and Cas wouldn't let him go until he had finished him off one last time with the water running hot around them.  
  
Cas... Dean was pretty sure he didn't come at all. At least not before he stumbled into bed and passed out; he couldn't be too sure what Cas did after that. What he did know was that Cas had no problem keeping it up. There was one moment, just before the shower, where Cas had him pinned from turning the water on, biting his ear and jerking him off from behind.  
  
What made it so hard for Dean to shake him off was that Cas' cock was pressed right into his crack, and he thought he was finally going to get fucked. Cas was dripping precome on him when Dean pushed back against him. He almost forgot himself and was about to ask for it, but Cas seemed to know what he was going to say and shoved two rough fingers into his mouth.  
  
"I'm sorry if I pushed you too much."  
  
"Never say sorry for giving head," Dean said quickly. "Especially such good head."  
  
Cas nodded his chin at Dean's hand. "Can I kiss you?"  
  
He shook his head. "No. I have to brush my teeth."  
  
"I don't care." Cas was already pressing forward, reaching for him.  
  
Dean had to sit up. "I do. Come on, breakfast."  
  
Cas obediently followed him out of bed - he was dressed in Dean's clothes and the sight made him do a double take. Dean had throw him some sleeping pants when he was drying off last night, not really thinking about anyting other than putting his head on a pillow. But he had definitely chosen well, even in such a bad comedown haze. The thin cotton hug low on his hips and draped over his junk so it was obvious he had no underwear on. He looked like he was maybe even half hard right now.  
  
"You have to keep those," Dean pointed at his PJs.  
  
Cas raised an eyebrow, but nodded. "Thank you. I will."  
  
Dean tried his best to be a decent host. He gave Cas his kiss after brushing his teeth, and had to disentangle himself from it to lead him out to the kitchen. "Come on, Cas," he had to plead. He had slept much later than usual, and it was nearly eleven now. Well past food time. Cas only followed reluctantly, but he took over the cooking when he saw Dean attempt to flip an egg.  
  
"Try this," he interrupted, reaching for the glass lid of the frying pan and pouring a little water into it.  
  
Dean stepped back and let him.  
  
"You let the steam cook the top," he explained, letting the water spill into the hot pan and placing the lid on it. It did fill with steam, instantly, fogging the glass.  
  
Dean wasn't really paying attention, though. Cas' ass in his pants was just too distracting. He stepped up behind him at the stove and pulled that ass back against his hips.  
  
"What -" but Cas didn't finish his question when Dean's mouth came down on the back of his neck. He hummed, "I thought you wanted breakfast."  
  
"You can be my breakfast." His hand found Cas hard as a rock, and it was so easy to wrap a palm around the head of his cock in that thin fabric.  
  
Cas jumped. He almost pushed Dean in a jerky, aborted motion, instead just forcing them back from the stove. He looked both scared and ashamed, but didn't say anything. An accusation or an apology would have gone a long way to help Dean figure out what that look meant. Either way, it was a real boner killer.  
  
He hated scaring Cas.  
  
A sizzling came from the frying pan, as the steam had found its way out and condensation dripped onto the hot stovetop. Dean quickly moved the pan to a cold element, and made a point of looking Cas in the eye to say, "Don't worry about it. Let's just eat."  
  
They ate. They talked about work. Cas had finally made a sale with Balthazar, and he was very pleased with the deal - but also about not having to call the man every day now. Dean invited Cas to building's workout room, and surprisingly Cas agreed. He wasn't a regular gym-goer, and asked Dean to show him some of the machines. He may have been playing it up a little, but so was Dean.  
  
If there wasn't two girls on the ellipticals in front of them, Dean might have made a move. Instead, he had to fixate on rusty Fords, automatics that couldn't get into gear and revved to all hell. Apparently, though, Cas had a lot less modesty, and when Dean leaned a little too close to adjust the weight for him on pull ups, Cas turned his head and caught Dean's mouth in a stubbly kiss.  
  
He nearly dropped the adjustment bar, almost jerked back, then Cas' hand was on his cheek, over his ear, tender as his lips, and Dean melted into it. He let the weights down slowly and lapped at Cas' mouth like no one was watching.  
  
Let them stare.  
  
They had to go back to Dean's apartment quickly and they didn't make it to the bedroom this time. Cas had him against the door and made him cream his sweats and Dean came way too fast after such a busy night.  
  
"Well. That's a different kind of cardio," he huffed, when Cas finally let him breathe again.  
  
Cas was staring at him, his face flushed and his chest rising and falling, and Dean was way too aware of his hard on pressed against his hip like this. He needed him, Dean knew, but he just wouldn't let him near enough. He pushed away from the door to give Dean space, and Dean grabbed his sleeve to keep him.  
  
"Come on," he murmured, and pulled him to the living room.  
  
The sun was high in the sky, flooding the giant windows that he had for walls in there, and Dean's instinct was to close the blinds, but he didn't. He pushed Cas onto the sofa, relishing in the bright sunlight illuminating his figure in Dean's workout clothes.  
  
"What are you-"  
  
Dean quieted him with a kiss, climbing onto his lap. He held Cas' cheeks in both his hands, stubbornly keeping him there until Cas let Dean pull his tongue out to suck on. _Yes, relax, baby_ , Dean wanted to say. He didn't dare.  
  
He eased Cas' shirt up, and Cas let him. When they broke off to let Dean pull it over his head, he whipped his own up, too, and went back to kissing before Cas could take control again. So far, so good. Cas' hands even drifted to his ass, and pulled him forward, squeezed him, his fingers tracing and groping lower then higher then lower again, nearly down to Dean's sack. It was enough to make Dean hard again, though he was certain he'd be way too sore from overstimulation if he let Cas paw him around again. So he took Cas' hands, bringing them together so he could pin them with one hand over his head.  
  
Cas looked worried, but also horny as hell, with his pupils blown wide and his lips shiny from kissing. He allowed Dean to hold him down. Then Dean slid his ass up so he could grind against Cas' dick, and his compliance disappeared.  
  
His hands were pulling. "Dean - I don't -"  
  
" _But I do_ ," Dean breathed, pushing his own erection against Cas' stomach to remind him that this was for Dean, too. "I want to ride you, even just like this is enough. Don't you know how sexy you look under me?"  
  
Cas didn't agree, but he stopped trying to free his hands.  
  
Dean pushed forward with a kiss, talking against Cas' lips and grinding his ass back down again. "You want to make me come over and over, right? Didn't you promise me? So let me feel your dick, Cas, nothing will make me blow my load faster than knowing how hard you are for me."  
  
It was working. Cas moaned into his mouth and his hips jerked up a little.  
  
"Yeah, like that, just like that babe. So fucking good." Holy shit, holy shit, Dean was doing it. He was giving Cas a lapdance. He was _giving_.  
  
Unfortunately, it was so effective that Dean lost control before long. Cas learned that humping against Dean's ass made him lose his shit, gained autonomy for his hands again, and pinned him to the couch. He quickly got Dean down to his boxers even though he was still in sweatpants himself.  
  
Cas kept up the perfect thrusting, positioned right between Dean's legs where he belonged. God, Dean was sure Cas could fuck him. He was so goddamn hard, and he obviously knew exactly what to do. Dean almost thought Cas was doing it just because it felt good, but when he hissed at Cas' attempt to jerk him off, Cas ceased it all. He eased down so he could blow Dean instead, his body and his cock way too far from Dean now.  
  
But his mouth worked wonders, keeping his tongue soft and lapping instead of sucking, exactly as much as Dean could handle right now - and he was tireless. It must have been more than half an hour that he just blew Dean, long and slow. Even then, it wasn't until he popped a finger up Dean's ass that he was able to finish.  
  
But he did. Alone, again. He could barely murmur an appreciative "Holy fuck" afterwards; Cas was obviously trying to drain him to death here.  
  
Dean's last thought before he fell back asleep: _I can definitely get him to fuck me before the weekend is out._


End file.
